Tuesday, 24 September 2013


I dreamt about Bob. He was sitting opposite me in the dark. It was so dark, I couldn't really make him out, but I knew it was him. We were sitting on either side of a small, shallow pool. The pool was glowing, like a television in a dark room. Bob waved his hand over the pool. I caught a brief flash of dry skin pulled taut over bone before his hand disappeared back into the darkness. He told me I have to go back. He said I have to turn around, go back to Victoria, and go into the crater. I told him I wouldn't, that it would kill me. He told me I had to. I forced my eyes open and woke myself.

I sat in the dark, shivering. I had no idea what time it was, or how long it would be until dawn. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay awake, but I tried. I would have walked, anything to stay awake, but I could easily have fallen into the furrow, and I had no wish to spend the last days of my life in agony. In the end, I fell asleep.

My dream resumed where it had left off. Bob told me to look into the pool. It showed a busy street, the pavements crowded with people. The pool rippled, and changed to an image of children climbing in a playground. It rippled again, and showed fishing boats on a blue, sparkling sea. Bob told me I had to go. He said I knew I had to go. He told me I would go. Then, he leaned toward me. I began to see his face.

I woke up numb. If I had anything else to do, anything, other than waiting for death, I wouldn't go back. But I don't, so I'm going back. Maybe my subconscious knows something I don't. I'll update tomorrow if I can.

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